


The Light Between My Curtains

by Poches



Series: Mass Effect: Reunion Series [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 10:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3246683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poches/pseuds/Poches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Liara and you’re waiting.<br/>--------------------------------------<br/>Liara's reunion with Female Shepard in Mass Effect 2.<br/>Incoming angst and unfulfilled feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Light Between My Curtains

Your name is Liara and you’re waiting.

You’re at your desk, working on several things all at once. You find a piece for this sudden disappearance case, a piece for that drug empire, something for that illegal research case over there, and all of them slowly become more whole as you go along. It would be more productive to focus on one thing at a time, but sometimes you find this method helps, even if it isn’t the most efficient.

Through all of that, you’re waiting. You know she’ll come someday. You attribute this premonition not only to your sources and your own involvement, but you can feel her. She is there.

Lo and behold, she is. You hear her coming up the stairs, exchange a few quick words with Nyxeris, and she comes through the door.

The first thing you notice is that her hair is longer. Before, it was cropped short, close to her head and had a more spiked or curled consistency. Now it is a chin-length, messy bob that you desperately want to comb your fingers with, both for intimacy and to neaten her hairstyle a touch. The second thing you note is the glowing red scars that have bloomed on her cheek. Your heart aches momentarily. Your desire to stroke that side of her face is even more short-lived as you’re bitterly reminded where you are.

She throws you a world-weary smile that you meet with a kiss. You briefly enjoy the feeling of surprise that is cancelled out by nostalgia. It’s a quick, chaste one that leaves you wanting more. Unfortunately, you know neither of you really enjoy an…audience. And you’re not even thinking about the two people accompanying her. Them, you know you can trust implicitly. For now.

You can feel her wanting to hug you, but you break away. There’s a twinge in both of your hearts. You politely offer her a seat, and she accepts as you sit across from her, trying to not think about reaching across and holding her hand. You’ve already kissed her. That should be enough. It isn’t, but it should be.

You exchange words. It’s quick, polite banter and it’s killing both of you. You want to let her break down your walls all over again, to welcome her in the gates of your arms again as you spill everything into her. And she would listen like before, covers drawn around both of you as she holds you in those strong, compact arms of hers. Nimble, warm fingers would stroke your head as you fall asleep to the sound of her heartbeat. Such warmth, such bright brilliance that leaves you in a state of pure contentedness. Your mind quickly flickers back to the night before Ilos. How she treated you so tenderly while bringing out all of your sides and reflections, how you saw each other in full.

Her business questions draw you out of your daily daydream. She presents two dossiers to you, one for a drell assassin, and the other for an asari justicar. You promptly give her the information she needs, raising an eyebrow and giving her a joking smile at the latter of the dossiers, as if questioning her tastes. She laughs, a pure sound that almost makes you innocently blush the way you did two years ago.

“Watch out, Liara. I might have found your replacement and you’re just leading me to her.” You can’t help but giggle, finally allowing her a glimpse of you between your iron curtains. You can tell she loves that one little peek as her face relaxes into a sigh. You rebut, both of you knowing that would never happen. She is an imperative part of your own little universe now, and you an irreplaceable part of hers. Those green eyes of her dance with amusement as you both enjoy this moment of familiarity.

However, all dreams must come to an end. She coughs, slightly intentionally, and the dancing stops as she becomes grave. “So I don’t think I can convince you to come with us?” The words come out smaller than one would have expected from a woman of her stature. “I mean, that way I wouldn’t _have_ to find a replacement if you did.” She hopes the joke softens the blow of the inevitable. You offer a dry smile and shake your head. “I cannot simply abandon my responsibilities for you, Shepard.”

She nods, knowing. She mumbles something of resignation, acceptance. You’re fighting the prickling sensation in your nose as she prepares to leave. Leave without you by her side. She gets up from her seat, and you want to get up after her, but you obediently stay seated. She tells you she’ll be back, but it doesn’t make the scent of pain go away. You smile at her the best you can, bidding her well. You only need to hold out for a few more minutes. And anyways, you’ve gotten good at hiding your pain.

You’ve had two years to practice.

Two years of waking to faint lights that flit in from outside and past your curtains, of tossing and turning in a bed that is too big for only one person to occupy, of sliding your arms across the sheets to remember she’s not there anymore. It is but a couple feet of bedding, but it feels like a desert to you. And only in that vastness do you feel truly alone. Alone to finally cry.

She slowly gravitates towards the open door, giving you one last look as her companions walk down the stairs. She smiles, the gesture tainted by the slightest traces of longing, and closes the door.

When the door slides shut, you can feel the dam breaking at least. It starts out small, one droplet. Then the others fall. It makes you think of rain on Illium. How there are preliminary drops that start out soft and gentle, then turn into a relentless downpour. Tears roll down your cheeks at a frightening pace and you let them. You refuse to breathe out of your nose for a moment, afraid of making a telltale sobbing noise because you know she’s still out there, not only because you haven’t heard her start down the stairs, but just because you always know.

And you also know that she somehow knows you’re crying. But she also knows to keep walking.

She always knows, too.

**Author's Note:**

> For my infiltrator Shepard, Misha Shepard.


End file.
